


Powerful

by lil_cutie



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Feelings, Fingering, I love em, Lesbian Sex, Pretty smutty, Weed, best girls!, cis!swap, dont let your dreams be memes, i love tits, im gay for both these girls tbh, joan wanna fuc michelle, just do it, lots of feelings, michelle and joan!, michelle wanna fuc joan, shower masturbation, tits, v gay, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-02-08 05:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12857871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_cutie/pseuds/lil_cutie
Summary: Michelle and Joan got their powers over the summer during separate incidents in the woods. Now, with Michelle back in school and Joan more agitated than ever, her powers become harder to conceal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for shits and gigs, and I decided to post it on a whim. I hope you guys enjoy.

Joan ran out the front door and threw her arm into the closing bus doors. With a pissy look from the driver, she clambered down the aisle and took a seat in an empty row.

It was a hot fall day, and she had pushed herself into the corner of the two-seater, trying to make herself as small and inconspicuous as possible. Since her sister Sydney had left on the earlier bus, Joan was glaringly alone and honestly bitter at her twin. Joan knew she had overslept, but still felt abandoned. 

Joan was more lonely than usual these days. She had been hiding her powers form her sister and her friends ever since she had first noticed them, the night after the party in the woods. 

She had been invited (mostly due to her sister’s relative popularity) to an end of summer party some dipshits had held in the woods. She had begrudgingly attended, and halfway through the evening, slightly buzzed and more than a little uncomfortable, she had been approached by that preppy bitch Nina, who had called her the usual shit (“fat dyke!”). Normally it wouldn’t have bothered her, but she had been having a rough day. 

Joan had run away, sobbing and stumbling, into the dark woods, the light from the bonfire fading into the distance along with the hoots and hollers of her classmates. In her agitated state, she tripped and tumbled down a hill and was deposited, bruised and battered, at the foot of an ominous chain-link fence. She picked herself up and dusted the leaves and dirt off of her sister’s dress (Sidney was the one who wore dresses, and had insisted her sister do the same for tonight). 

She was in bad shape when she walked back up the hill and to the party, but upon seeing her sister’s happy face, decided to walk home alone. 

She had hobbled down the dark streets of Selwood, examining the damage. She had a cut on her palm, which stung but wasn’t deep, and a dark, large bruise already forming on her outer thigh. She had landed in a small puddle of foul-smelling water (?) and hurried home to get out of the wet dress that was clinging so unflatteringly to her figure.

The next night after being yelled at by Dean for arriving home late the night before was the first time she saw the lights. Angry, red and pulsing, they filled her room as soon as her door was slammed.

The bus screeched to a stop in front of the school and snapped her out of her reverie. She slung her bag over her shoulders and clambered into the aisle.

The school was abuzz this morning, though Joan couldn’t discern exactly what was being said. Probably something about who passed out at this weekend’s party, or about what Jamie McKinnley’s tongue tasted like.

Her first class was environmental sciences-- a required class for seniors because of the nuclear plant that was Selwood’s only notable feature. The last two seats in the class were in the middle of the back row, so she plopped herself down in one of them. Only two weeks into the school year and environmental sciences was her favorite class. She had always had a passion for science (except physics. Physics sucks), but this class was extremely interesting to her because they often talked about the most fascinating things. 

As Joan settled in for another excellent lecture, she heard loud arguing in the hallway. She was only sitting two seats from the door, but she could still only hear bits and pieces of the loud talking that Mr. Newman didn’t seem to notice. 

“Young lady, shouldn’t you be in class by now… the bell…” said an older man’s voice.

“… wanna make me… fuckin’ … a shot!”, an oddly familiar female voice replied, considerably louder.

Joan, now paying more attention to the voices than the lesson, leaned toward the sound in an attempt to hear the conversation better.

“… first day of … I’ll tell the principal you deserve… back to …” the male voice retorted, to which the other voice scoffed but didn’t say another word.

A few seconds later, the door Joan was glancing at burst open to reveal the lanky figure of a girl so bitter looking she may as well have eaten three whole grapefruits, rind and all. Joan recognized her and the blood drained from her face. Michelle Mueller. Taller and older than the last time Joan had seen her, but the resemblance was unmistakable. 

Mr. Newman stumbled over his words when he saw Michelle, but quickly regained composure and introduced her to the class. As if Michelle Muller needed introduction. Michelle was a legend. No, more like a weird living ghost story. Everyone would talk about the time she stabbed her stepdad and was dragged away to juvie. Sometimes they’d tell her story to scare their friends, or they’d exaggerate the story and tell it to newcomers to Selwood to freak them out. Sometimes the story went that Michelle went crazy and killed her dad while he was asleep, and then bathed in his blood. Over the years the story warped even further, but Joan was here when it happened. She knew that Michelle had always been violent in and out of school, and was a menace to the town.

Joan shivered in her seat and looked down at the handout as to put off Michelle noticing her. Michelle ignored her introduction and took the seat next to Joan without so much as a glance at her.

Joan was so anxious her feet began tapping on the floor and her eyes darted around the room for another open seat she knew didn’t exist. She chanced another look at Michelle, who was leaning back in her chair with her legs spread and her hands clasped behind her head. Michelle’s head turned as if she could feel Joan’s eyes on her, and she smirked fiendishly upon recognizing her. Joan gulped down air and snapped her head forward and stared unblinkingly at Mr. Newman. She could hear Michelle’s faint chuckling and her small whisper of “ho-ly shit, Spots”.

Upon hearing her old nickname, every memory she had pushed into the back of her mind came surging back over her like an avalanche. The unrelenting insults, the times Michelle would corner her outside of school and kick the shit out of her, the cronies that followed Michelle around and spat at Joan whenever they saw an opportunity. Michelle had made Joan’s life a living hell for years. 

Mr. Newman calling Joan’s name snapped her out of her own mind, and she gave him a puzzled look. 

“Joan, you’ll be partners with Michelle for this project,” He answers to her questioning stare. Joan didn’t hear what the assignment was, but she nodded like she understood, and refused to look at Michelle.  
As soon as the bell rang, Joan slid her books into her already open bag, slung it over her shoulder and ran out the door without a glance back.

Once she reached the hallway outside her next class, AP French (which she reckoned Michelle didn’t take), she breathed out a shaky sigh of partial relief. Escaping her for now was good, very good, but this still felt like a crazy nightmare to Joan. Michelle should never have returned to Selwood. 

. . .

Joan had a strategy. During class she would ask to go to the bathroom and just stand in front of the sink, washing her hands clean for minutes until she was no longer a panic-y mess. 

So far she’d done this three times today, and now she was slinking off to the third-floor ladies bathroom (the one with the window overlooking the garden) to scrub her hands clean.

She pushed the door open and ran the cold water over her shaking hands. Her panic conjured small blue and green orbs of light, which float around her. She looked at herself in the mirror and watched the lights dance. In the back of the bathroom, right by the open window, she caught a sight that froze her blood dead in her veins.

Michelle Mueller, the living nightmare herself, sat on the windowsill, joint still burning in her hand, just as immobile as Joan.

. . .

Michelle Mueller didn’t know what to think. If she’d seen something like this about a month ago, she’d have thought that her joint had been laced. Now that she had her own powers, though, she was just in awe.

Joan looked terrified. Michelle didn’t know how to tell her that she had no intention of hurting her anymore. Well, there was still that part of her brain that wanted to push her in the hallways, but much more for the purpose of getting her up against the wall to fuck her sloppy than anything else.

Good lord had Spots gotten hot. It was still warm enough to be considered shorts weather, and Joan’s thighs looked like heaven in her high-waisted denim shorts (Michelle hadn’t been concerned with getting into heaven until now). Michelle was no poet, but she could have written fucking sonnets about the little freckles peppered all the way up her legs (the ones all over her body, really, but the ones on her legs were her favorite).

Michelle remembered the time she spent kicking the shit out of a much younger Joan, but she also remembered the two weeks that they were friends. She remembered the time she’d convinced Joan to climb a tree with her. Joan had fallen on a rock and Michelle panicked, watching the deep red blood expanding on Joan’s light-wash jeans. Joan hadn’t cried, just asked Michelle to help her get cleaned up. Michelle stole a first aid kit from a gas station and met Joan in the bathroom.

Joan had taken off her pants so Michelle could clean off the cut. They were only eleven at the time and Michelle hadn’t even known the word gay, but looking at Joan’s spotted thighs was almost too much. She had used the alcohol wipe to clean the cut and then covered it with one of those big-ass band-aids. If Michelle squinted, she could probably see the scar…

Oh shit, Michelle realized, I’ve just been sitting here like a dumbass. Say something!

“So yer been down to that factory shit in the woods too, huh?” Michelle kicked herself internally.

Joan only blinked in response. The lights still floated around her, swirling green and blue even brighter than before.

“Yeh, I was there, like, a month ago, just fucking around, and the next morning I woke up and sent my phone flying across the damn room.” Michelle levitated her cracked phone out of her pocket and grinned as Joan’s eyes widened even further. “Kinda cool--“

Joan ran out of the bathroom and the lights disappeared with her.

“--ain’t it?”

. . .

Joan was going to lose her damn mind if she stayed in school another minute. The school day ended in twenty minutes anyway, so she ran to her locker and grabbed all her stuff. She’d text her sister to pick up the rest of it from her last class, but for now, Joan needed out. 

Joan had so many questions after seeing Michelle in the bathroom, and no intention of confronting them or Michelle for as long as possible.

There was one thing there was no question about, though. She would never be safe in school as long as Michelle was there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ;)

Joan faked sick on Tuesday. Wednesday Dean dragged her out of bed and made her go to school.

She used to think environmental science was a great way to start the day, but now she feels only scared. The prospect of seeing Michelle is downright terrifying to her, but there’s nothing she can do. Joan had no option but to sit down in the back of the class and wait for Michelle.

She shows up five minutes late, and Joan can’t tell if Mr. Newman is indifferent or disappointed that she showed up. She sits down right next to Joan and flashes her a big, toothy grin. 

Joan looks forward to avoid eye contact, and copies down the homework Mr. Newman just wrote on the board. Meet up with your group mate(s) and discuss plans for your project. Joan is so fucked.

Halfway through writing it down, Joan feels a tug on her pencil. She glances over, half expecting Michelle to be grabbing it so she can hold it over her head and make Joan jump up and try to get it back. But Michelle’s hand isn’t there. In Joan’s surprise, she lets the pencil go and it drifts slightly into the air, before returning to her paper and beginning to write. 

Joan looks back and forth between Michelle and her pencil, and Michelle’s smirk returns, wider than ever. The pencil drops to the desk and Michelle leans back in her chair, looking smug.

Joan’s paper reads, in very shaky writing, See ya after school spots :). Joan stands up, hastily asks to go to the bathroom and walks out of the classroom without waiting for a response. 

Joan washes her hands almost feverishly, and when she returns to her desk, her paper also reads Meet me out front, and you can show me wut those lil lights o urs can do.

. . .

Michelle leaned on the bricks of the front of the school, biting her nails viciously. Joan wouldn’t show up. Michelle had seen how Joan had looked at her. She was terrified. And if Michelle just had an opportunity to explain, she could be nice and maybe convince Spots to give her a chance.

Just before Michelle had lost all hope, Joan walked down the steps out of the school and good lord that body made Michelle drool. The way Joan looked made Michelle’s fingers itch to skim over her soft curves. 

Joan stopped in front of Michelle and nodded half-heartedly. She walked quickly ahead of Michelle, so that even with her long legs, she had to jog a few steps to catch up with her.

“Hey Spots,” Michelle grinned at Joan, “Whatdya wanna do for this project?”

Joan snapped back down to earth at the sound of Michelle’s voice. “Um… sorry what did you say?” Joan said sheepishly, maintaining her pace and confused expression.

“Project.”

“Oh, yeah. I was thinking we could study the …”

To be honest, Michelle didn’t listen to what Joan was saying, busy as she was checking out her ass. With Joan walking so fast, it wasn’t too hard to fall slightly behind to catch a peek. 

Joan’s ass was perky and big, and would fit so well in Michelle’s large hands. It bounced with her quick steps, and as Joan relaxed a bit into talking science nonsense, Michelle really, really wanted to reach out and run her hand over the roundness of Joan’s ass. FUCK MICHELLE! Pull yourself together!

The two girls made their way into the woods, and Joan set her bag down at the base of a tree. She pulled her science notebook and a pencil from it, and began to take notes of the state of the forest. Michelle just stood, staring dumbfounded.

“Hey Spots!” Michelle interrupted, “watch this!”

Joan looked up from her notes and the somewhat relaxed look she had gained while walking was wiped off her face as Michelle used her powers to push a medium-sized oak tree to the ground with a loud thump. Joan’s eyes widened and the air around her started to twitch with green light.

Michelle plopped down on the uprooted tree’s trunk, and patted the spot next to her in an invitation.

. . .

Joan maintained her calm exterior as she walked into the woods, but now that she was alone with Michelle, she began to panic. Her words sped up as she began to feel more and more scared, and she was almost grateful when Michelle interrupted her ramblings.

“Hey Spots watch this!”

When the tree fell Joan’s chest tightened in anxiety. Michelle used to be strong in middle school when she would beat up Joan for sport, but now, with these powers, Michelle could probably kill Joan without lifting a damn finger. Michelle sat down and smiled in a way that confused Joan. It wasn’t quite her usual smirk, not yet her malicious grin she got before pushing Joan around like a ragdoll. No, this smile was uncomfortable. It was almost as if Michelle was-- embarrassed? 

Joan couldn’t explain why, but she sat down next to Michelle.

The fuck are you doing, Joan? She’s dangerous. She’s Michelle Mu--

Joan felt a big hand grip her shoulder and she jumped a little in her seat.

Michelle chuckled. “Dontcha worry Spots, I ain’t gonna bite yer”.

Joan sucked in a breath that felt like molasses in her lungs. Michelle’s hand shifted on her shoulder, rubbing up and down in little slow movements. Joan should’ve been terrified. She was, to an extent, but not because she was alone in the woods with a super powered Michelle, but more because she was confused. Why was Michelle acting this way? Almost… nice? Joan didn’t know how to respond. Maybe she could just talk more about the proje--

“Whenja getchur powers?” Michelle said nonchalantly.

Joan stared into Michelle’s amber eyes for a few seconds, dumbfounded by how nonchalant she could be about this. Eh, fuck it. What did Joan have to lose?

“Around a month ago” she replied flatly.

Michelle looked at her as if there was more to say. When Joan said nothing more, Michelle said, “Uh, you mind if I smoke?”

Joan shook her head slightly and turned to look at the forest floor while Michelle extracted a cigarette from a beat-up pack in her back pocket. She lit it, and took a deep inhale. Michelle took the cigarette out of her mouth and offered it to Joan.  
Joan didn’t smoke. She didn’t really see the appeal, not in the slightest. But having Michelle offer her one was kind of … tempting? Michelle was tempting. Even when she scared the living shit out of Joan, Joan had always slightly revered her. She was powerful and fierce. Michelle was like a fire, roaring right next to Joan on the fallen tree.

Fuck it, Joan really did need to relax. To Michelle’s immense surprise, Joan took the lit cigarette between her fingers and raised it to her lip. Her next breath was deep and slow and though it made her cough, Joan began to feel slightly less intimidated by Michelle. She was showing her that now she wasn’t the little kid that Michelle used to bully. 

All Michelle could think though, was Jesus Christ’s hairy nipples; I gotta get this girl’s thighs around my face. 

Joan smoked the cigarette to the butt, until Michelle took it from her fingers and threw it on the forest floor to stamp it out. Joan stood.

“Let’s go look at the flood damage a little further towards the water.”

As Michelle followed Joan, she couldn’t help but grin to herself about Joan’s relaxed steps.

. . .

Joan, though tense, was starting to enjoy herself. Everything was lighthearted and Michelle suggested (relatively timidly, which shocked Joan), that they go for a swim in the water. “As research for the project of course, “ Michelle flashed her same toothy, dorky smile at Joan.

Joan felt like she should have not wanted to, but she really, really did. She had gotten sweaty and sticky on the walk to the beach. It was still basically summer, after all. She nodded at Michelle, who’s grin widened to expose her teeth.

The thing Joan hadn’t considered, though, is that this meant taking at least some of her clothes off. In front of Michelle. Oh god.

Michelle peeled her shirt over her head, leaving her in a white sports bra and jeans-- scratch that, no jeans either. Pale skin, kissed by summer sun and pulled taught over lean muscles gleamed in the light of the afternoon sun. Michelle was built sturdy and when clothed seemed to lack the curves most girls had. Upon such an, ehm, in-depth inspection, however, Michelle had some hips. Some pretty nice looking hips, if Joan did say so. Michelle had swung these hips to one side, and had her hands on them. Joan stared, dumbfounded.

“You’re not gonna swim like that, are ya?” Michelle questioned, looking down at the seated Joan.

“Uhhhhhh…” Joan thought on it. “No.” and with that she peeled off her own shirt.

. . .

Michelle was truly blessed today.

Joan’s perky tits were slightly overflowing the cups of her bra and Michelle couldn’t help but imagine pulling the whole contraption down and taking those freckled breasts in her big hands. Her tummy was cute too-- it was just as speckled as the rest of her, but partially obscured by Joan’s self-conscious arms. Damn, it was cute that she was so embarrassed. Of course she had no reason to be; Michelle loved the way Joan looked (maybe a little too much).

Michelle turned her reddening face away from Joan, and to keep from arousing suspicion, started walking towards the water. A second later, she heard Joan’s soft footsteps follow her through the sand and down to the water.

Michelle ran straight in, until the water came up to her knobby knees. She then turned back to Joan, who was easing in more deliberately. She, too, had taken her pants off, leaving her in a cute but plain pair of grey panties. Fuck. Michelle turned away again and dove forward, submerging her head in the refreshingly cool water.

Michelle wasn’t a great swimmer. She flailed her arms and feet until she resurfaced, coughing.

Joan made her way to Michelle and looked at her questioningly. It was still shallow enough that the water only came up to Joan’s shoulders (covering her tits, to Michelle’s dismay).

Michelle stretched her arms briefly before using her powers to pick small orbs of water out of the sea and float them over Joan’s head.

Joan, though amused, suddenly regained her anxious look, and mumbled something halfheartedly. Michelle guided the bubbles back into the water.

“What?” Michelle asked softly, noticing with some dismay, the slight warble in her own voice.

Joan spoke again, softly still, “Aren’t you worried someone might see? Your powers, that is.”

“Not really? Nobody would really believe they saw it, I think,” Michelle replied, a little embarrassed she hadn’t quite considered the consequences of being caught suing her power. “And nobody would fuck with me anyway! I’d just smack ‘em silly.” She grinned.

“I wish I didn’t have to worry about people beating me up over this.” Joan’s voice was even smaller and more timid than before; the only reason Michelle even heard it was because she was moving towards Joan. She put a large calloused hand on Joan’s freckled shoulder.

“Well ya don’t have ta worry anymore, that’s for damn sure.” Joan looked up at Michelle, a shocked look filling her big brown eyes.

“”Wh-Why not?”

“’Cause if anyone were to even think about fuckin’ with you, I’d beat ‘em to a bloody pulp.” Michelle said in a low but angry tone, as if threatening the other person that wasn’t there to try somthin’, I dare ya.

. . .

Joan, though appearing calm as she stood mostly naked in the water with her childhood bully, felt like a tornado had blown through her mind and torn up all her previous impressions of Michelle with powerful gusts of wind, and left nothing behind.

It was almost too much-- Michelle’s words, her powerful hand on Joan’s shoulder, her deep amber eyes filled with red-hot hatred, not for Joan, but for those who would hurt her. Joan felt the anger and passion and power in Michelle, so much that it was overwhelming. Michelle was a violent force to be reckoned with, and Joan was awestruck by her.

“Joan?” Michelle asked, all the fire from her voice and eyes suddenly gone. Joan blinked at her.

“I-- uh--- I’ve got to go!” Joan squirmed out from under Michelle’s hand, and ran back to shore. She heard Michelle’s splashing steps behind her, and a cry of “Wait!”, but Joan got to shore before Michelle and was already getting into her pants when Michelle reached her.

“Joan, what’s the rush? Why are you going?” Michelle panted.

“Dean doesn’t like it when I’m home late,” Joan quipped, “He gets mad.”

Michelle paused. “Well, at least give me your phone number.” Michelle said, and then quickly added, “For the project, of course.”

. . .

While Joan skated home, her wet undergarments a cruel reminder, she thought hard about what had just happened. Michelle was going to protect her? From Joan’s bullies, of whom Michelle used to be the most dangerous? And on top of that, Joan had admired Michelle’s body. If Joan closed her eyes, she could imagine running her fingers over Michelle’s taught stomach, the harsh angle of her hips, the soft curve of her tits--

Joan clenched her fist. Nope! She had never thought about Michelle’s tits. Not once. And she wasn’t thinking about them now, definitely not thinking about the way her dark nipples showed through the thin material of her sports bra. Not thinking about the long hot shower she was going to take when she got home.

. . .

Warm water pelted her aching back as she closed her eyes. Joan rarely touched herself, but when she did it was in the shower, to avoid doing so in the room she shared with her twin. The sound of the water would drown out her soft moans, and everyone was used to her taking long showers already because she always loved clearing her mind that way.

Joan did so as a necessity-- hardly ever due to arousal, but mostly due to being a stressed-out teenager. This time was different. She had peeled of her clothes to find that she was soaking wet, and not just due to swimming. She justified it by having last period with Cameron, her partner on a history assignment. Cameron wasn’t hard working or particularly kind, but he talked to Joan, and that was more than could be said about most. 

Joan pictured him with her, his cocky smirk and sharp jawline. He was undeniably attractive, and Joan imagined kissing him, and letting him cup her breasts with his hands. She imagined him touching her all over, calling her beautiful and fucking her gently against the tiles. 

She opened her eyes. Imagining Cameron had made Joan feel sick.

The image of him in her head used to get her off, at the very least, but now was different. Now, Joan knew what she wanted. And God, did she want it.

She closed her eyes and squeezed them shut. She saw Michelle in her mind, and imagined what it would be like to have her here, in this shower. She knew it was wrong, but fuck, it would be so good. Michelle’s towering figure loomed over Joan, and she felt the full power of Michelle’s presence, even through her imagination. Michelle, were she here, would put one hand on Joan’s rounded hip and the other on her cheek. Joan leaned her head to the side she imagined Michelle cradling it. If she concentrated, she could feel the calloused skin pressing gently into her freckles. 

Joan’s imaginary Michelle had that crooked but friendly smirk plastered across her face, and Joan gulped. Would Michelle draw Joan in to her slowly, and kiss with unexpected tenderness? Or would she be forward and rough, slamming their lips together in a rough kiss with harsh nips at Joan’s plump lips? Michelle was unpredictable and commanding, the very thought of which made Joan shiver.

Joan imagined Michelle breaking their kiss and pushing Joan’s hips onto the side of the tub. Joan sat and spread her legs.

“Ya want it bad, huh?” Mind-Michelle asked, her smile turning predatory and hungry. Joan made a suppressed noise in the back of her throat. 

Michelle dropped to her knobby knees, and put those strong hands on Joan’s legs in an attempt to push them farther apart. “So wet for me--” Michelle hummed, pressing imaginary kisses to the insides of Joan’s speckled thighs. Joan quivered in excitement. “Bechur so fuckin’ tasty.”

Joan reached her hand down to her drenched pussy and pushed two fingers in slowly, with a shallow exhale. She pictured Michelle between her thick thighs, head tilted up to make eye contact with Joan while she slowly fucked her pussy with her tongue. Joan, fingers fully sheathed in herself, began rocking tentatively into her hand.

Joan imagined that Michelle would grab her ass while she ate her. Imagined she’d press her face deep between Joan’s thighs to reach her tongue deep inside Joan. Imagined that Michelle wouldn’t be able to eat her for long because she’d want to talk to Joan, tell her how good she tasted, how tight she was, how good her tits looked from below.

Joan squeezed a third finger along with the first two into her dripping pussy, fucking herself faster and faster as she imagined what Michelle’s dirty mouth would say.

“I wanna eat you all fuckin’ day, shit Joan, I’d have you for breakfast, lunch and dinner if ya’d let me. Fuck.” Joan was biting her knuckles to keep from moaning too loud.

“This sexy ass, Joan, this ass-- I want it sat on my damn face, an’ lechu ride my tongue for hours, drippin’ your sweet cum down my throat.” Joan used her thumb to rub shallow circles around her sensitive clit, causing her to knaw on her knuckles harder.

“I want to fuck you soft and gentle, wanna make you mine, God, Spots, I wanna keep you just for me.” Joan bit the skin of her hand hard to keep from screaming as she came. Her vision went white and she bucked her hips involuntarily, which shoved her three fingers even deeper into her gushing pussy.

She basked in her fantasy for a few more moments, long enough to imagine Michelle pulling her forward for a tender kiss, tinged with the sweet flavor of Joan’s own cum. Joan then washed her body thoroughly and turned off the water. 

Despite being clean now, she felt dirtier than ever. It was one thing to get off, another to think about your bully, who, to make matters worse, was a girl. Joan couldn’t help it though. Michelle was just such a powerful person, and Joan was so incredibly turned on by that. 

It didn’t matter though. Joan wouldn’t ever have the pleasure of seeing Michelle between her legs anyway, so what’s the harm in her fantasy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh comments are real nice.   
> i respond to every damn one and if you have any requests for the next few chapters i’d love to hear them(any particular kink u wanna see i’d also consider)  
> or if u just wanna make my darn day.
> 
> please commenttt


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is short. better than nothing though!

There were repercussions to Joan’s fantasy. For one, when she got a text from Michelle herself no more than two minutes after getting out of the shower (masturbate to the devil and she shall appear), she was too embarrassed, even, to respond to Michelle’s “we gotta werk on the procjet tamorro, rite?”

The rest of the repercussions were more long term. 

Joan clambered into bed after bidding a soft “’night” to her twin, and turned off her bedside lamp. 

There was a long silence between the two, but then Sidney spoke into the darkness of their shared room.

“Joan? I feel lonely.” Sidney’s voice sounded a little desperate, but mostly sorrowful. “I know it’s partially my fault, but I feel like we’ve been growing apart and--“

“It’s not your fault, Sid.”

“But it is my problem, since I feel like I can’t talk to you anymore. And I need to talk to you, now more than ever.”

Joan rolled over in her bed to face Sidney’s bed, all the way across the room. Sidney was still looking at the ceiling. “What happened?”

Sidney sighed, and responded, “It’s just-- Dean’s been getting real mad at me lately. He’s never been kind, or nothing, but I’ve been taking the brunt of it, and, well, there’s something you should see.” Sidney sits up in bed and turns her back to Joan. She then lifts the right corner of the hoodie she’s wearing to bed, displaying, even in the semidarkness, a deep, large bruise.

“Shit.” Joan breathed. “When was that?”

“Last week. It hasn’t even faded, and I’m getting worried that I broke a rib.” Sidney is back to staring at the ceiling without looking at Joan.

“You could have Sue take you to the hospital.” Joan knew it wasn’t a good option, because then Sue would be the one on the receiving end of the anger, but that bruise was harsh, and must’ve hurt all day and night. Joan grew angry just thinking about it. Red threads wove themselves through her fingers.

“I’m having a hard time without you, sis.” They were simple words, but Joan felt as though her sister had just given her jewels. 

“Me too.” They returned to silence for a minute, before Joan gained the courage to speak. “I have something too. Something I need to show you.”

Sidney rolled over to face Joan, finally, wincing at the pain in her side. 

“Show me.”

Joan let out a deep sigh, and closed her eyes. She saw nothing but the black of her eyelids, until the light faded through, and she saw red.

“Holy hell.” Sidney said, a little too loud. 

“Uh, this happened a while back--” As Joan told her story, she saw her sister’s eyes widen with awe.

When she had finished, “So I’m the only one who knows?” Sidney said and Joan clammed up.

“Not exactly…” Joan said in a lower tone.

. . .

They talked for hours, Joan telling Sidney about being caught with her lights by Michelle. Sidney looked worried for Joan, but Joan explained that Michelle had her own powers, so it was unlikely she’d rat on Joan. Sidney seemed comforted by this.

They set their morning alarms, and, wishing each other sweet dreams, drifted to sleep. 

Joan’s sleep was less than peaceful.

In less than a day, Michelle had wiggled herself not just into Joan’s fantasies, but also into her dreams, and somehow, the dream was even more disturbing.

Michelle had Joan wrapped up her big arms, and had nuzzled her head into Joan’s shoulder-length hair. They were watching something-or-other no Netflix, which made the whole scene sickeningly domestic.

Joan wished Michelle would just fuck her or something, like one expected of dreams about the object of one’s fantasy, but Joan and Michelle just cuddled, and as much as she’d like to deny it, she felt safe.

The dream stuck with Joan for a while.

. . .

Michelle was such a dumbass. GOD, how’d she managed to fuck things up with Joan already? Upon returning to the trailer park after swimming with Joan, she promptly threw up, and then lay, motionless on her thin mattress, staring at the ceiling.

How could she be so stupid as to think Joan could look past Michelle being Joan’s bully? Hell, Michelle couldn’t even look past it. Whenever she thought about how sweet and kind and soft Joan was, she remembered how angry that used to make her. Joan had been everything Michelle had ever wanted to be.

Michelle sighed and fell into a fitful sleep.

. . .

Joan made her way to her seat in the back of the environmental sciences class, and noted, a little disappointedly, that Michelle wasn’t there. She half-heartedly took out the notes she took last night and began to research what other data she needed to collect that night. 

Joan made her way through the day without thinking about Michelle too much. That is, until she saw Michelle waiting at her locker after last period. In a crop top(reading, simply, “ass”), no less. Joan gulped.

“Heeeeyyy Spots,” Michelle said, sounding tired but happy.

“Hello Michelle.” Joan said, looking at the ground as her fantasy and dream were pushed into the forefront of her mind. 

Michelle slung her arm around Joan’s shoulder and looked at her with bug amber eyes, reddened by lack of sleep or weed or some combination of the two. “We got work to do, ain’t we?”

“Yep.”

“We should get goi--” Michelle was cut off by Cameron grabbing Joan’s arm, goofy grin plastered over his tanned face.

“Hey Johanna, didja happen to finish that lab report for me?” He looked at Joan expectantly.

“No, I wa--” Joan started before Michelle stepped between Joan and Cameron.

“Joan ain’t gotta do yer work fer ya.” Michelle glared down at the shorter boy.

“No, Michelle, it’s ok, I’ll get right on it Cameron.” Joan tried desperately to calm Michelle, and keep her from doing something rash. Michelle huffed at Cameron, and then kept walking, pulling Joan by her shoulders to the exit to the school building. 

Michelle pushed the doors open violently and then said, in a flustered tone, “He’s using you, Joan-y, can’t ya see?”

Joan looked down, ashamed. “I know, but he’s the only boy who really talks to me,” she said in a whisper to her shoes.

“Fuck boys then.” Michelle said, in her loud, commanding voice. “They wouldn’t know a cute girl if it bit em in the ass.”

Joan kinda laughed at that, but felt tears prickling her eyes. Michelle could still see the weak Joan that had she’d beaten up. Joan felt pathetic. 

“C’mon. We gotta work on this project.” Michelle pulled Joan back into her with one arm around Joan’s freckled shoulder. The walked slowly towards the woods, and a few silent tears fell down Joan’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks fer the comments -  
> they super nice


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mMmmMMmm gimme some joan gettin high with michelle any day of the week

Michelle was quite on edge, what with Joan being so vulnerable and close to her. It was unsettling, and to be quite frank, Michelle had no idea what to do. Joan needed to relax. She needed to unwind, and have a little fun--

Michelle steered Joan off-course, and ignored Joan’s confused, teary-eyed glance look. They walked in silence, hearing only the crack of dried twigs and the rustle of wind through the yellowing leaves. 

They made their way to a gravel driveway and began to walk down it. Near the edge of the forest, they found a van. It was a big, white windowless one, the kind your mom warned you not to get into. The side was spray-painted with a few dicks, but underneath could be seen a painting of a clown.

“It’s Javier’s.” Michelle broke the silence. She opened the back of it, and climbed in, offering her big, calloused hand to Joan. She hesitated to touch Michelle, thinking about how much she really wanted to, but then took hold of her fingers and climbed into the back of the van.

The van was cozy, the floor of it covered in cushions and blankets, and though it was messy, it felt warm and welcoming. An odd smattering of bongs and stage makeup containers littered the soft ground, and Michelle looked through them intently. 

“Um…” Joan shifted her weight uncomfortably. This wasn’t what she had in mind. She had known she’d have to be alone with Michelle for the project, but had intended to keep a bit of distance, not get into a van with her. It was bringing back all sorts of memories, ones she wished not to think about in public. 

Michelle held up a bong in triumph, and smiled sheepishly at Joan. “Thought we could loosen up before we did any real work.” She scratched the side of her shaved head, and blushed. BLUSHED! Was she trying to kill Joan? Jesus.

“Uh, okay. I mean-- sure, yeah, sounds good.” Michelle laughed at Joan’s flustered response, and asked Joan to close the doors. 

. . .

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, tha’s good,” Michelle said after breathing out a lungful of white smoke. She offered a puff to Joan, who nodded before looking away, hot-faced.

“I don’t, uh, know how.” Michelle’s relaxed smile widened.

“C’mon”, Michelle beaconed to Joan to sit closer, and when Joan isn’t move, said jokingly, “I aint gon’ bite. Not ‘less ya ask real nice.”

Joan scooted over so she sat to the right of Michelle, sandwiched between her and the door. Michelle put the bong between her legs and said to Joan, “I’ll do all the work, jus’ breathe in when I say.” Michelle flicked her lighter under the bowl, and gave Joan a breath full of sweet smoke. It left Joan sputtering but warm inside and she leaned back.

They passed the glass structure back and forth, and Joan began to relax more and more into Michelle’s bony shoulder. Michelle flinched the first time, but later got used to it and wrapped her arm back around Joan, which left Joan humming happily.

“Fuck, yer cute.” Michelle whispered, looking down at Joan’s small body. God, it was hard to keep her fingers from moving on their own, skirting all over Joan’s supple curves and charming freckles.

“Mmmmmmmmmh,” Joan hummed again, and began to recall her dream. This felt an awful lot like that, with Michelle being all indulgent and caring and cuddly. And she was so soft! So comfortable, and Joan hadn’t slept well, plagued with Michelle dreams, and god, her eyelids felt so heavy...

. . .

 

Michelle was in a special type of hell. Beautiful fucking Joan was all cuddled up in her, and starting to snore. Michelle’s arm was wrapped around her back and was now trapped there by Joan’s deadweight. God, this was not easy. Pat of Michelle wanted to go all domestic on Joan, and wrap her up in blankets and let her sleep. The other, more fucked-up part of Michelle’s mind wanted to wake Joan and make her moan so loud she could be heard by the school. Having Joan so close was messing with Michelle’s weed-soaked brain.

Joan wasn’t having an easy time of it either. Michelle had returned to her dream, and this time was far less innocent than before. She approached Joan with a predatory grin, and pinned her to her school locker.

“Cameron is dead. You hear me?” dream-Michelle growled into Joan’s ear, making her shiver. “I’ll fucking kill ‘im.”

Michelle looked down at the sleeping Joan’s head on her shoulder when she heard a shallow hitch in her breath.

“He ain’t treat you right, Spots. Not like I would.” Michelle raked her huge hands through Joan’s wavy hair, scraping her scalp with short nails. Joan looked into her amber eyes. “He don’t love you, he don’t know you, don’t fuck you like I do.”

Joan’s sleeping body let out a weak little whimper, the type that affected Michelle way more than it should’ve. Michelle swallowed bug gulps of air, trying to clear her head. If she could just get her arm out from behind Joan--

Joan’s dream was heating up. Michelle had ducked down and stuck her head under Joan’s skirt(her mind had obviously dressed her for convenience, for she didn’t really own any skirts) to mouth at her dripping pussy. Her tongue felt like heaven against Joan’s panties and she pushed her hips toward Michelle’s face.

Real Michelle was starting to feel weird. She was watching Joan have a dream, a clearly sexual dream. God, she was a pervert. It was probably about that dickbag Cameron. Michelle had found a way to hate him even more, and felt her fists clench as a result. 

“-- Ah, ah, shit that’s good.” Joan murmured into Michelle’s shoulder, and Michelle was so fucked, so irreversibly turned on, she felt herself let out a soft whimper. 

Joan felt Michelle’s skilled fingers push her thighs further apart and then push effortlessly inside her, as her tongue worked at her clit. 

Another whimper from Joan, followed quickly by one from Michelle herself. God, it was so wrong for her to watch this, so wrong, but Jesus, so hot--

“Michelle, fuck--” Joan breathed out Michelle sat straight up, causing Joan’s head to fall off of her shoulder. Joan shook the sleep from her eyes and made contact with Michelle’s beet-red face.

“Oh, uh, sorry there Michelle. I fell asleep, huh?” God, Michelle thought, she didn’t know. Michelle nodded dumbly.

Joan studied Michelle-- she had been so calm (pretty high, too), but it was like someone dumped ice water all over her and drew her to attention.

“Is something wrong?”

Michelle didn’t know how to respond. 

“Hey, Mich? Are you okay?” Joan scooted closer to Michelle, who shrunk away a little from her touch.

Michelle made a reluctant noise in the back of her throat as she pulled away from Joan. 

“I n- I need some air.” Michelle pushed the doors to the van harshly open, and jumped to the ground, sound softened by the fall leaves. She pushed the door closed behind her, leaving Joan alone in Javier’s weed van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment they make my dayyyyyyy


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gooD LORD IM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK AGES BUT HERE IT IS AND IT'S SMUTTY AND SOFT AND GOOD.

Michelle let out a deep sigh as her hot skin was met with an early autumn breeze. She leaned her bony spine against the graffiti-covered side of the van and tried to calm her heart.

After a minute, Joan became worried. She shifted her weight from side to side, glancing in the direction Michelle went. Once Joan was shook from her sleep, Michelle had given her a strange look, and seemed, almost… nervous? It was strange to see that on Michelle. Maybe Joan had just gotten a little too close, falling asleep on her shoulder like that, and Michelle was weirded out. 

Yeah, that had to be it. I mean, between falling asleep and waking up, what could she have done…

Oh.

Oh no. 

Joan’s thoughts drifted back to her dream. It felt as if she was viewing it from through a diaphanous cloth, it was fuzzy and vague, but it was undeniably sexual. Oh, god, Joan groaned internally, what have I done? I have to, have to apologize, have to say something, have to…

She had really fucked up. She felt sobered up by the cold shock of having a wet dream leaned up against Michelle. She scrambled herself together, and pushed the back door open. 

Michelle had been looking up into the yellowing leaves of the trees above when the door opened. She composed herself and looked over at Joan. Her dark and freckled cheeks were tinged with deep red, and she walked over to Michelle to lean against the van next to her. She took a deep breath before she began to speak.

“Michelle, I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” She almost whispered, like she was afraid for the trees to hear her. “I feel so bad… I, I should probably just go home--” Joan trailed off, and looked down at her shoes guiltily.

Michelle shook her head slowly, then when she realized Joan wasn’t looking at her, cleared her throat and spoke. “It’s okay, don’t worry about… about it. You… it’s not yer fault, yer can’t control it.”

Joan let out a shallow breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “I… I should just go.” This is just too much for Joan to handle. Jesus, she needed to sort out her feelings, her swirling, chaotic feelings. The ones that were screaming how warm Michelle’s arms would be around her, how nice it would feel to be held. Joan felt so helpless and lost in her passions. She saw Michelle’s lips moving before she realized Michelle had been responding.

“What?” Joan interjected, and Michelle stuttered through the beginning of her sentence.

“I… Would, Would yer mind me walkin’ ya home? Just’a make sure yer safe, Spots.” God, that would be so awkward, walking silently home with Michelle after unconsciously moaning and pressing up against her. But jeez, Michelle looked distraught, and Joan thought to turn her down would hurt their emergent friendship even further. Joan accepted.

. . .

The walk to Joan’s home was as uncomfortable physically as it was socially. Both girls were acutely aware of their damp underwear as a simple symptom of their larger arousals, and both coming down from their slight highs. Joan was carrying her skateboard and it bounced against her leg every step she took.

They said nothing as they walked down the empty sidewalk. 

Joan broke the quiet. 

“Michelle, I’m sorry.” It came out as a raspy whisper. She had already said sorry, and bringing up the uncomfortable situation in the van made her sweat nervously, but she needed to fix it. Not talking to Michelle would make everything worse. “But what, you know, what did I do?” She looked up at Michelle’s resigned expression. The air around her paled blue and swirled uneasily. 

Michelle took a breath and struggled with her answer. “It-- it don’t matter, Joanie, s’not important.”

“But it is, Michelle. It is important.”

“Why?” 

Joan stopped in her tracks. Michelle did too.

“You’re not seriously asking why it matters. Just tell me.”

Michelle fell silent.

Joan was fed up. So fed up with Michelle, and more specifically with not knowing how fucked her relationship with Michelle was. How bad was it? Did Michelle know she was into girls? Did she know--

“You said my name.”

Joan met the other girl’s eyes and within them saw the spark of something that made her shiver. What now? What could Joan even say in this situation? This is so much worse than she imagined. 

Michelle kept taking. “You were moaning quietly and then ya started to say words. Nothin’ specific, and then my name.”

Fuck, Joan was dead. So fucking dead. Could she outrun Michelle? No, not on her legs, but if she managed to get on her skateboard she could skate off and avoid the end of this conversation. 

She didn’t want to admit her feelings; she couldn’t face the certain rejection that came with an admission. The humiliation of seeing Michelle in school tomorrow, still working on a project with her, still feeling for her, still fucking herself to thoughts of those amber eyes and lanky figure, still--

“And I liked it.” 

Michelle looked straight into Joan’s eyes as she said it, and Joan felt a compelling energy rush through her body. She dropped her skateboard at her feet and surged toward Michelle in a split second. She grabbed Michelle’s shirt in her small fists, more aggressively than Michelle would have ever expected from her. She pushed Michelle’s back against the brick side of the factory building they’d stopped next to.

She leaned into Michelle, who looked shocked and overwhelmed. 

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Joan said in the most commanding whisper she could muster. “What am I supposed to do about that, huh? Walk home and pretend like I didn’t just rub all up on my female-- FEMALE-- friend in my sleep and then found out that she liked it, huh? Why would you say that, Mich? How can I deny my feelings anymore, when I know you feel the same?” Joan’s voice cracked off at the end and her fists unclenched from Michelle’s shirt as she pressed her face into Michelle’s large and bony shoulder.

Fuck, Michelle hadn’t considered how much what she said could hurt Joan. Seeing the small girl cling to her while trembling with tears made Michelle’s throat tighten with a dry sob of her own threatening to rip free.

What could she do? How could she console Joan of her own internalized self-hatred? Michelle knew what it felt like to be ashamed, to be unsure and self-conscious and anxious. She could mask it with a bold and violent exterior, but under it all, she was still the angsty fifteen-year-old sobbing in her room after coming out to her mom. She couldn’t be the supportive family her mom had provided her that night, but she had to be able to help. 

Michelle sucked in a deep breath and brought her sinewy arms around the shivering body clinging to her stupid graphic crop top. She would fucking protect Joan. Fuck everyone who told her she couldn’t love herself. Fuck everyone except Joan, fuck the whole world and the solar system too. Michelle didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened to everything except Joan. She whispered all of this into the curled black hair she pressed her face into. She cradled Joan until she was calmed, and still after.

When Joan pulled away from Michelle’s shoulder Michelle released her arms to allow her to pull away. But Joan simply moved her face upwards and pressed her tear soaked lips against Michelle’s with steady determination. 

Michelle reciprocated without a thought. All she knew was the warm and insistent press of soft, mellifluous lips on her own, and the overwhelming thought of finally.

It lasted all of a minute. When Joan pulled away, she left Michelle hungry for more. She looked down at the speckled girl illuminated by pink light, and felt a surge of possessiveness. She needed Joan, wanted to clutch her near and never let her go.

Michelle brought a big hand to Joan’s face and wiped her tear-streaked cheek dry. “Lemme take you to my place, Joan,” Michelle whispered in a thick, raspy voice that had Joan’s knees faltering.

“Please.”

. . .

 

Michelle had been resisting the urge to seize Joan’s hand the whole walk to the trailer park, for fear of someone looking on. It was a slightly tense silence, but Michelle’s nerves were calmed with every glance at Joan’s face.

While still slightly red and puffy from the tears, Joan had the ghost of a smirk resting on her lips. She’d meet Michelle’s eyes every so often and the air around her would sort of twinge with pink light. 

Michelle fumbled her keys in her big hands until the door swung open with a creak and a crash as the door collided with a piece of furniture. Michelle didn’t have time to pay it mind, though, because Joan’s soft body was pressed up against her again, pulling a whine from her throat. Michelle staggered backward and slammed the door before wrapping Joan up in her lanky arms and kissing her deeply. The second Michelle got her tongue into Joan’s mouth she started to whimper and roll her hips against the knee Michelle had slipped between her thick thighs.

Michelle moved her hot mouth to Joan’s neck, and the sounds Joan was making got louder and more coherent. Sure, most were still just wordless moans and huffs, but the occasional “Michelle, oh gosh, Michelle” slipped its way out of Joan’s mouth.

Michelle slipped her hands under Joan’s shirt and Joan leaned her head back until it hit the door. Michelle nipped lightly at the freckle that she’d attached her mouth to and hummed softly.

Joan’s keen at Michelle’s movements mutated into the words, “T-- touch me, Michelle, I need you so bad, oh god I need you” and Michelle couldn’t do anything but oblige.

She lifted Joan from the backs of her thighs and relished the gasp Michelle felt against her neck. She walked Joan all the way down the hallway until she pushed through the door to her room open using Joan’s back. The bed was unmade and the floor was covered in dirty clothes, but neither could find it within themselves to care. Joan felt so overwhelmed by Michelle’s strength and power. It was all too much and yet not nearly enough.

Michelle lowered Joan with her powerful arms onto the bed and then slid her hands back up under Joan’s tee. Michelle spent a few minutes just grazing Joan’s soft skin. She only stopped when Joan raised it over Joan’s head and threw it onto the floor to admire Joan’s exposed skin. 

Still covered in freckles and laced with light stretch marks, Joan’s tanned skin did things to Michelle, things that made her shiver and want to see more, and god, Joan was obliging her without her having said a word. Joan unfastened her unadorned black bra to reveal the soft, perky tits Michelle had been fantasizing about for fucking years.

Michelle ran her hands down Joan’s sides, and whispered, almost to herself, “God, Joanie, yer so fucking gorgeous.”

Joan’s flushed face was looking away once Michelle’s eyes made their way back up to her. Michelle smirked and brought one hand to Joan’s chin to guide their faces together in a languid and deep kiss. 

Joan’s hands, which had previously been behind her, resting on the bed and supporting her as Michelle leaned forward while kissing her, collapsed and Michelle was on top of her, kissing her sincerely. 

Joan wrapped her short, soft arms under Michelle’s, and dug her fingers deep into the blades of Michelle’s shoulders, bunching the fabric of her shirt up, exposing a bony ribcage and white sports-bra. Michelle, who had been using her arms to prop her upper body above Joan, made a move to pull her shirt back down, with uncharacteristic reserve. The result was Michelle flopping over Joan, knocking the air out of the both of them. 

They rolled onto their sides as best they could, and sat up to sit eye-to-eye across the twin bed. 

“Michelle?”

“Yeah, Joanie?”

“Is-- do-- take your shirt off?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I was jus’ being weird, I don’t know,” She made a quick move to remove the shirt, but was met with a speckled hand on hers.

Joan sucked in a quick breath and spat her next words out like an unruly faucet. 

“bUTYOUDONTHAVETOIFYOUFEELUNCOMFORTABLEIGETITIMNOTGREATWITHMYBODYYOUDONTHAVETOFEELASHAMED!”

Michelle lowered her arms and her lips widened into an uninhibited, toothy smile. She put her right hand on Joan’s cheek and leaned into her to press a gentle kiss onto plush lips. When she leaned back, she was still smiling, and took her shirt off. Her ribcage was prodding through the skin of her chest, but Joan still wanted to run her hands along her sides.

Michelle reached her hands over to Joan’s hips and pulled the smaller girl into her lap, so her thick thighs were pressing on the outsides of Michelle’s bony ones. Joan bounced a little in her lap, while Michelle continued to smile openly.

“Yer the best goddam person in the whole fuckin’ world, Joanie,”

And with that their lips met back in their fervent press. Joan continued to bounce back on her folded ankles into Michelle’s lap, loosing the occasional huff or groan from Michelle. 

Both girls fumbled in trying to rid the other of their jeans. The difficulty of such a simple act made them laugh, Joan’s chuckling chest reflected against Michelle’s own. The laughter was what made the whole thing real, the act of being able to stumble and still keep waking, with each other’s help.

They were naked, Joan still in Michelle’s lap when Michelle felt really noticed how wet her thighs were. She pulled her mouth from Joan’s (a move met with a disapproving whimper), and lifted the shorter girl’s hips. 

“Ho-ly fuck Joanie!”

Joan looked down at Michelle’s stubbly thigh between hers and pressed her face into her hands in mock embarrassment. She was far past that with Michelle.

“Just do something about it, you creep” Joan joked, but Michelle’s finders were already creeping to her swollen cunt with deft movements. They teased at her dripping lips before wiggling past them and sinking into Joan, the action met with harmonizing moans.

Joan resumed bouncing back on her ankles in Michelle’s lap, this time bringing her long, boney fingers deeper and deeper inside of her as the weight of each plunge increased. Joan was whimpering in a soft, high-pitched sound as she looked down on Michelle’s fingers disappearing inside of her. She grasped Michelle’s shoulders for support, and in turn felt Michelle’s left hand brush up and down her hip with languid admiration of the soft curves of Joan’s body. 

This drew Joan’s eyes up to Michelle’s; as if feeling this, Michelle’s eyes also lifted to meet Joan’s in the type of look you saw old, hopelessly in love couples give each-other in side-by-side wheelchairs. Unable to stand this look from Michelle, Joan buried her face into the familiar bony crook of Michelle’s shoulder.

Things had changed so much between the two of them, and all of it for the better. Joan felt complete and protected and unmistakably appreciated by the tough, powerful girl below her. 

And then those fingers crooked forward and good lord did that feel good, so good, “Michelle!”

“Yeah Joanie?” Joan could practically hear that shit-eating grin in her voice. “What d’ya need?”

“Oh fuck you, Michelle, you know what I n-- nng oh god-- what I need.”

“Yer right, but I’mma need to hear you say it.”

Joan lifted her face and tried her very best to give Michelle a scowl, but she was interrupted by Michelle starting to sync her hand’s movements with Joan’s bounces, and her forming scowl transformed into an open-mouthed silent moan. 

“Sorry I didn’t quite catch that?” Michelle was loving this, absolutely relishing the feeling of getting to tease Joan like this.

“F-ff-fuck me Michelle, ˆ!” Joan looked like she hadn’t even meant to say that, but soon enough she was glad she had, because Michelle slipped a third finger into the wet, pulsating heat of Joan, and crooked all three to slam Joan perfectly in that spot, the one that made Joan’s head so fuzzy she couldn’t even control her moans.

So Michelle kept pounding her fingers into Joan, adoring the slither of her digits in the smaller girl. She brought her lips to Joan’s ear and whispered to her how pretty she was, how well she was taking Michelle’s fingers, how she’d been dreaming about this since forever. With each sweet whisper, Joan tightened around Michelle’s fingers, which only prompted Michelle to speed and strengthen her thrusts.

Joan nearly lost her mind as she teetered on the edge of orgasm. She was wailing and begging incoherently for more, just a little bit more Michelle!

Michelle tightened her grip on Joan’s hip and began pushing her down to meet her fingers. Joan all but screamed as she came, hips twitching with gratification as Michelle fucked her through it. 

When Michelle’s pace finally slowed, Joan’s body collapsed to the side so she could lie on her back and bask in her afterglow. Michelle looked over her freckled face, and softly smiling lips and felt content for all of two seconds, before she was brought back to reality by a burning lack of pressure on her clit. Huffing indignantly, unable to enjoy the “fucked-out” look on Joan, she slipped the three fingers, still wet with Joan’s cum, into her aching heat.

Joan was surprised to hear that squelching sound return and opened her eyes to see Michelle desperately fingering herself. It was such a pretty sight that she almost forgot to be angry.

“Hey!” Michelle stopped her hand’s movement and met Joan’s eyes as she sat up.

“What’s up?” Michelle’s lidded eyes flicked back and forth between Joan and her hand, still itching to move between her legs.

“I-- I was gonna do that?” Joan said confusedly, crawling back over to Michelle’s lanky body.

“Oh,” Michelle said, looking confused. “Oh, sorry! You, you can, uh, you can, if you want.”

Joan smiled, and used a hand on each of Michelle’s knees to bring herself up between them. She then grabbed Michelle’s skinny wrist to draw it out of Michelle. She drew the hand up to her mouth and, while making intense, almost violent eye contact, drew the three digits that had been inside them both, into her mouth. 

Michelle whined from the back of her throat at that, feeling more and more desperate for Joan with each flick of her tongue on Michelle’s fingers.

Joan arbitrarily decided Michelle’s fingers were clean enough when she saw how desperate Michelle’s eyes had become, and released Michelle’s wrist, letting it fall to the bed. 

Joan scooted forward a bit to give Michelle a chaste, wet kiss, before moving back even more and laying her chest flat on the bed. When she looked up, eyes wide and simultaneously questioning and challenging Michelle, the lanky girl let out another soft, restrained whimper.

“Is this--”

“Yes!” Michelle answered, and with that, Joan drew a first tentative lick over Michelle’s pussy.

To Michelle, the whole experience felt holy. Looking down on the face of the girl she had loved for years, finally seeing her make Michelle hers, that was enough to get Michelle off on its own.

But then there was also the fact that, for whatever reason, Joan was just amazing at eating pussy. She had Michelle whimpering and writhing and threading her fingers through Joan’s soft curls, the whole time begging, pleading, for more. 

She would circle her dexterous tongue around Michelle’s clit before sliding it down to prod into her, the whole time looking up into amber eyes like she was asking “is this good enough?” Of course the answer Michelle would’ve given was “of-fucking-course” but she was babbling like a brook, unable to control or even understand what she was saying. 

However, to Joan, the slew of words from Michelle hit her with a second wave of arousal. Her words held no shame as she asked, begged for Joan, with the most genuine whine and spilling from between her teeth.

Joan had Michelle screaming and coming into her mouth in around two minutes. 

When Michelle was done writhing and convulsing around Joan’s tongue, the smaller and softer of the two extracted herself from between Michelle’s thighs to lay her head on Michelle’s exposed breasts and ran her fingers over Michelle’s protruding ribs.

Michelle let out a satisfied hum and returned her long fingers to Joan’s curled hair. 

The whole word slowed around them, and then blinked out of existence as Joan curled and settled her weight onto Michelle. All that remained was the soft, warm comfort of skin on skin, and the unspoken promise of genuine love.

“This is so perfect.”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo if u want me to write some other femslash id be down gimme suggestions
> 
> also comments are love, love i dont deserve bc of how late this is.   
> but pls comment they make my day


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